


Doctor WHO??

by Nemainofthewater



Series: timelord!Rip [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Doctor Who
Genre: ...regeneration, Don't copy to another site, Feelings, Gen, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, I thought this was going to be a oneshot, I was wrong, Just a bit of fun, Rip is so done, RipFic, Team as Family, Time Lords, Transformation, absurdity, doctor who - Freeform, not really a crossover, one might even say..., ray and Martin are having the best time, they somehow made their way in, this is utter nonsense, timelord!rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-03-26 18:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19011646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemainofthewater/pseuds/Nemainofthewater
Summary: Rip has a small incident with the time drive. He undergoes a rather large transformation. Now, if only he knew what his crew was so amused by...Doctor who references, but not a crossover per se.





	1. Chapter 1

In the course of his life, from cutpurse to Time Master, to Renegade, to Captain of a bunch of toddlers masquerading as…well, not even semi-functional adults, the one constant in his life was the maxim that it could always get worse.

 

For the last few weeks, the Waverider had been surprisingly quiet. With both Ms Saunders and Mr Hall having left and Leonard…gone…the entire crew had been, not exactly morose but definitely less exuberant than before. It was only in the past week that things had started to return to an equilibrium, Dr Palmer making corny jokes about Star Wars, Mr Rory starting bar fights, Ms Lance flirting with pretty barmaids.

 

Mr Jackson had been eager to help, trailing after Rip like a particularly endearing puppy complete with large mournful eyes. Muttering underneath his breathe (and subject to some incredibly insubordinate snickers from the mutinous members of his crew, including Gideon you’re not fooling anyone, I can hear you Gideon) he had allowed him to tag along while he was doing small repairs.

 

And then larger ones because Jax had taken to learning about the Waverider like a duck to water, or some other clichéd metaphor. More than talent, he had brought enthusiasm, a willingness to learn and to make himself useful. And a part of Rip, the part that was still mourning the loss of his wife and son, the part that was reeling from the betrayal of the only people he had known to call family for most of his life, the part that gladly ran into danger… That part of him knew that he, one of the last of the Time Masters, would not be around forever. And in the event of his inevitable demise he would need someone to look after Gideon, and to continue the mission to protect time itself. Jax was as good a candidate as any.

 

It was that kind of thinking that led him here, in the Waverider’s engine room. To where he had been giving an impromptu lecture about the Time Drive and Mr Jefferson’s over-enthusiastic hand gestures had knocked him straight into the engine.

 

“Oh bollocks,” was the last thing he said before everything went green.

 

He came to an indeterminate amount of time later, bouncing up and down in what he suspected were Mr Rory’s arms. His head thumped painfully and in time with the arsonist’s rapid stride: perhaps he ought to be touched that the man was making an effort in getting him to the medbay in a timely manner. However the pounding of his pulse in his ears, echoing strangely, precluded any thought apart from pain. There was…something. In there. Something strange, and golden, and surrounding him.

 

“Mr Rory,” he muttered, “Do put me down. I can walk the rest of the way on my own.”

 

“Hah,” the larger man scoffed, “Not likely, English. Not when you’re paler than a bowl of porridge and light enough I suspect you’ve missed more than your fair share of meals.”

 

“What a lovely mental image,” Rip said, carefully twisting so that he could stare the other man down authoritatively, not that it ever did him any good, “But regardless, as your captain I must insist-”

 

The rest of his words were cut off when the sharp pain inside of his head spiked. Mick Rory looked the same as ever, intellectually Rip knew that, but there was something in his brain. Something that looked at the large man and saw not a human being, but a dizzying array of potential, and possibilities, the future shifting and changing and solidifying as future became present became past and last a solid line of history streaming behind him.

 

“Oh,” said Rip faintly, and then he vomited down Mr Rory’s chest, before once again succumbing to blissful oblivion.

 

When he next awoke, he was in the medbay. It was a sad fact of life that he could generally tell whenever he landed in the sterile room, having spent enough time patching himself up, or more recently being patched up, to instinctively orient himself.

 

“He’s awake,” the calm voice of Dr Stein said.

 

“What happened?” Rip asked blearily, opening his eyes before quickly slamming them shut again. Dr Stein was surrounded by the same intricate web of time and possibilities as Mr Rory had been, and frankly it was making him nauseous. No need to vomit on another team member.

 

“You were knocked into the time drive by Mr Jackson,” said Gideon’s blessedly familiar voice, “Luckily you weren’t scattered through the time-space continuum. However there seem to have been a few side-effects.”

 

Rip groaned. One of the first lessons that prospective Time Masters had drummed into them was to never, ever touch the time drive without the proper protective equipment. It was just his luck that he had been knocked into it. He was fortunate to have not had his atoms scattered throughout everywhen.

 

“You’d best tell me,” he said resignedly.

 

Dr Stein cleared his throat nervously.

 

“There are a few…physical mutations,” he said, “The noticeable of which is-” he paused.

 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, spit it out.”

 

“You’ve acquired a second circulatory system.”

 

“…What?”

 

“It’s true Captain Hunter,” Gideon said, “You appear to have two hearts.”

 

Rip groaned and leaned back against his bed. He wondered whether he could just chalk up the day’s events to a bad dream.

 

“What else?” he asked instead, “You said that the two hearts was the most noticeable of the mutations. What else.”

 

Dr Stein remained silent, but Gideon took over, her voice as cheerful as ever. Only Rip could hear the note of concern threading its way through her words, the unspoken message that they were going to have another talk, or rather lecture as Rip hardly talked in those conversations, about the importance of his health. Unfair in Rip’s opinion: this incident was an accident. And one he could hardly be blamed for.

 

“A secondary bypass system has begun to establish itself around your lungs and is continuing to grow. Additionally, you are currently emitting temporal energy, on a similar wavelength to that of the time drive. The energy output has increased by 0.78% in the time you’ve spent in medbay and shows no signs of stopping.”

 

“What does that mean?” a voice asked from the door. Rip turned his head and opened his eyes for a second before slamming them shut once again. Excellent. Dr Palmer also possessed the strange temporal overlay. He might have to admit that he wasn’t simply hallucinating, or at least if he were then it looked to be more long-lasting than he had hoped.

 

“Unknown,” said Gideon, “Nothing like this has ever happened.”

 

Dr Palmer came closer to Rip’s bed, and then picked up his wrist to check his pulse.

 

“Amazing,” he whispered, before grabbing a nearby stethoscope and pressing it to Rip’s chest. First on the left side and then the right. He paused for a moment, and a wide, goofy grin spread across his face.

 

“You’re a Time Master,” he said.

 

“Yes?” replied Rip, wondering whether he had been the only one to get into an accident, “Although it would be more accurate to say that I’m a former Time Master.”

 

Dr Palmer’s voice rose in excitement.

 

“That’s even better! No, listen. You’re a renegade member of a corrupt time travelling organisation, one that you recently destroyed!, travelling through history with a band of plucky companions, if I do say so myself. You have two hearts, a respiratory bypass system, and you’re emitting time energy. You’ve even got the whole angsty, long brown coat thing going on!”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rip said flatly, pressing a hand to his closed eyes. His headache was only increasing as the strange time-sense had started expanding until he could sense the past, future, and present of everyone presently aboard the Waverider. Rendering the whole closed-eyes thing rather moot. Nonetheless, he didn’t open them. No doubt it would only encourage whatever flight on fancy Dr Palmer had embarked on.

 

“I think I do,” said Dr Martin. He started laughing: “How have we never noticed this before?”

 

“I don’t know,” said Dr Palmer, “But I think that our next trip in time should definitely be England in the 60s. There’s no way that Rip didn’t inspire the character.”

 

“Maybe 2006 as well. He’s a lot more Reboot.”

 

“Definitely-”

 

“Can someone please tell me whatever the hell you’re going on about,” Rip said, reluctantly opening his eyes.

 

Dr Martin leant closer to him, eyes dancing and body shaking with suppressed mirth. Next to him, Dr Palmer had clearly already given up hiding it and had tears of laughter streaming down his face.

 

“Tell me,” Dr Martin said,” Have you ever heard of a British tv series called Doctor Who?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can we agree,” Rip said, “Not to mention this to Gideon?”
> 
> “No way,” Jax, and somehow in the past week full of pitiful looks and worried hovering he had become Jax, said, “I’m already in her bad books. I keep something like this from her? It’s cold showers for the rest of my life.”

“Can we agree,” Rip said, “Not to mention this to Gideon?”

 

“No way,” Jax, and somehow in the past week full of pitiful looks and worried hovering he had become Jax, said, “I’m already in her bad books. I keep something like this from her? It’s cold showers for the rest of my life.”

 

Rip sighed. Gideon had been a mite…overprotective lately, and rather angry with Jax no matter how many times he tried to explain it was an accident. Honestly, Jax himself hadn’t been complaining, only accepting the cold showers, fabricator that only seemed to make liver and onions, and intermittent showtunes at ungodly hours in the morning with a resigned, guilty, grace. It was clear that the boy blamed himself as much as Gideon did.

 

“It’s not like she can get any angrier at you,” Rip said half-heartedly, and entire untruthfully.

 

“It’s a risk I’m not willing to take,” Jax said.

 

Well. It had been worth a shot. At this rate he was never going to be let out of the ship again: to his surprise, Gideon hadn’t been the only dissenting voice when he had announced his intentions to go on the next mission.

 

It was meant to be a milk run. Something to reassure the crew that he was able to take care of himself, and that he definitely didn’t need to be nannied. All they had to do was travel to 1912 and make sure that Otto Rohwedder invented his bread slicing machine. Simple. And despite what the other Legends, and indeed most of humanity, thought, the invention of sliced bread at this particular time point was hardly crucial. Besides, he rather thought that it would happen sooner of later. Some part of him whispered that no matter how they twisted the timestream on this particular matter, sliced bread was one of those concepts that time would ensure reappeared sooner or later.

 

Honestly, the main goal of this mission had been to acclimatise him to people once again. To being able to look at them and see their entire lives stretching out behind them. If he’s being entirely frank, even the familiar lives of his crew were making him slightly nauseous whenever he looked at them: best to nip that in the bud as quickly as possible. He was tired of flinching back whenever one of the crew happened upon him unexpectedly, and he was most definitely keen to avoid the brief look of hurt in their eyes whenever they did so. And what better way to get over it than exposure therapy?

 

A quick trip into the past, stare at as many people as possible until he got used to his new senses or he passed out. In and out, and it shouldn’t take more than a day or so. He hadn’t phrased it quite like that, of course. He wasn’t stupid.

 

It hadn’t stopped the fact that every single member of the crew had volunteered to come on the mission. Even Mr Rory. Especially Mr Rory in fact, cradling a gun with a disturbingly intense look upon his face.

 

He had brushed them all off and chosen Jax to accompany him, ignoring their protests. He was, after all, the Captain of this vessel. No matter how little power that actually seemed to give him. No, the only things that his position of Captain conferred were headaches, and a vague sense of pride whenever they managed to leave the time line more or less intact.

 

It was his pride that had allowed him to step foot onto firm land for the first time since the accident. It was pride that had allowed him to keep walking steadily until he could no longer feel the concerned gaze of his crew. And it was pride that had failed him in a dingy alleyway in 20thcentury Missouri when he collapsed, unable to take it anymore.

 

Because if being on the Waverider had felt overwhelming, this? This was more like torture. He could feel _everything._ The Earth spinning on its own axis, hurtling through space and it was all he could to cling on to the surface of this small insignificant planet without screaming in terror as they threw themselves around the sun at 67,000 miles an hour. And that wasn’t even taking into account the sheer amount of time and people and potential that he could feel around him. In 1912 there were approximately 3.429 million inhabitants of the city of Missouri, Illinois; 108.5 million inhabitants of the United States of America; 1.6 billion people on Earth, clinging to this small insignificant planet. Men, women, children, all with their own lives and destinies, constantly changing their minds, millions of babies being born their futures glowing with potential, millions of people dying, their past set in stone, and so many people just living.

 

And worse, he could feel his new time sense expanding, stretching outward and leaving the Earth until he could feel the lives in the galaxies around him, billions and billions of them. The Universe was infinite and so was the potential for life and he could feel them all. It was awe-inspiring. It was overwhelming. It was splitting his head in two, the strange twinned beat of his hearts (his hearts!) echoing in his ear, loud as drums: thump thump, thump thump, thump thump…

 

It was like that Jax had found him, slumped on the ground, unable to move or breathe or think through the panic that was gripping his senses.

 

Feeling Jax approach, the familiar comfort of a timeline that he knew intimately, something that he could concentrate on, bending his entire will to latch onto the golden threads of his future…it was a breathe of fresh air. He would never tell Jax, but it was possible that he had saved him from an inglorious death by disobeying orders and following him.

 

And this brought him to his current dilemma, limping back to the Waverider with the majority of his weight supported by Jax. And unfortunately it looked like he wasn’t getting out of this one.

 

No, he thought glumly as the Waverider came back into view, he definitely wasn’t going to be able to retire gracefully to his quarters. The entire crew was outside, in ‘casual’ poses: Sara was cleaning her knives pointedly, Ray was doing maintenance work on his suit, Martin had brought a book out with him and was apparently reading it intently, save for the fact he was holding it upside down, Mick had no fewer than five guns spread out around him and wasn’t even pretending to be cleaning them. Rip would lecture them on the dangers of bringing anachronistic weapons into the past, but in all honesty, he had the mother of all migraines and couldn’t muster the correct amount of righteous indignation. They would only ignore him in any case.

 

“There you are,” Sara said as they approached, eyes narrowed as she gave Rip a quick one-over. He supposed he looked terrible because the crew’s expressions upon observing him ranged from the vindicated (Sara) to the worried (Ray) to the indifferent (Mick).

 

“I found him a few blocks away,” Jax said, “He’d collapsed.”

 

“Traitor,” Rip muttered.

 

“Just doing what’s best for you,” Jax replied, “And if I happen to earn back hot showers? That’s just a bonus.”

 

“It really wasn’t that bad,” Rip said, raising his voice, “I was just a little overwhelmed. Getting used to life with an extra sense, and all that.”

 

“Really?” Martin said genially, “Then you won’t mind if we conduct a few extra tests then?”

 

“I hardly think that’s necessary-”

 

“But I do,” Sara said firmly.

 

“Anyway,” Ray said, “Imagine what would happen if you’d been taken to hospital. You think leaving my suit here could destroy the timeline? Imagine what proof of alien life would do!”

 

“I’m hardly alien-“

 

Mick grunted and cut him off expediently, simply by reaching over and hoisting him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Honestly, you would have thought he’d have more sense than that, given what happened the last time he’d carried him.

 

“Put me down-!”

 

“He’s stubborn as a sack of bricks,” Mick grunted, “But he’s no match for us.”

 

“Is that so Mr Rory?” Rip spluttered indignantly as he was ignobly carried back onto the Waverider, Mick striding along the familiar corridors until they reached the medbay once again and dumping him on a bed.

 

“Indeed Captain. I’m afraid that Mr Rory is correct,” said Gideon.

 

Rip groaned. He’d never escape. Not now that Gideon had managed to find several loyal minions to aid her rule of tyranny and mother-henning.

 

“Face it,” Ray said, hands on hips, “We’re worried about you. And you’re not dealing well with whatever the time energy did to you.”

 

“We tried it your way,” Sara said, “Letting you pretend that nothing was wrong. Idiot. Now it’s our turn.”

 

“Let us take care of you, Captain,” Gideon said.

 

Rip looked around. Saw their determined faces.

 

“Oh very well,” he said with bad grace, “I suppose a few more tests can’t hurt.”

 

He valiantly tried to ignore Ray and Jax high-fiving each other victoriously.

 

“But as soon as I’ve passed all your little tests, things go back to normal! Do you hear me? I shan’t be kept prisoner on my own ship.”

 

“Of course Captain,” said Gideon, and Rip groaned once again. He was never going to be allowed any independence ever again.

 

“Don’t worry,” Martin said, his voice solid. Reassuring, full of gravitas that he had accumulated over his long years. “We have something to keep you occupied.”

 

Ray crossed the room and retrieved something from a drawer, holding it up triumphantly. Rip glanced over. It appeared to be a stack of old-fashioned DVDs, which for some reason had a picture of a police box on them.

 

“Let’s just say,” Ray said, “We’re going to be doing a lot of research.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a oneshot but I broke and wrote more. Oops?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We should start with Eccleston,” Ray said, “Lure him in and then once he’s hooked, we can get into the Classic stuff.”
> 
> Jax wrinkled his nose.
> 
> “I don’t know if I want to watch the old stuff,” he said.

“We should start with Eccleston,” Ray said, “Lure him in and then once he’s hooked, we can get into the Classic stuff.”

 

Jax wrinkled his nose.

 

“I don’t know if I want to watch the old stuff,” he said.

 

“Old stuff!” Martin interjected, “I’ll have you know that-”

 

“Please hold still Captain,” Gideon said, and Rip sighed, letting the sound of the argument face into the background.

 

“You’ve already done this scan, Gideon,” Rip said, “Twice as I recall.”

 

“Indeed Captain Hunter,” Gideon said, “However but all accounts your body hasn’t finished changing yet. Between the first scan of the amount of temporal energy your body was outputting which took place minutes after the accident, and the second scan which was 24 hours later, there was a 157% increase.”

 

“Wow,” Ray said, “And you didn’t keep scanning?”

 

“I was overridden,” Gideon replied primly, “As Captain Hunter thought it best that he vacated the medbay at that time.”

 

“Well that was stupid,” Mick said.

 

And why are all the Legends still crammed into the room? Surely they should have left by now. Rip was confident that given enough time and space he could successfully convince Gideon that he was fine. Or at least convince her that he knew what he was doing. But no one was leaving, and they were rather blocking his means of escape.

 

“Gideon,” Rip said, pinching the bridge of his nose and resolutely not looking at anyone, “We’ve already had this conversation. There’s no point in my being poked and prodded at all hours as we have no idea what’s going on and no way to stop it. What we should be concentrating on is the mission.”

 

“I never thought that I’d agree with Mick,” Sara said, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, “But for once he’s right. You’re an idiot.”

 

“I hardly think-”

 

“Oh yeah? Let’s make a deal. You look at us without flinching and I’ll help you bust out of here.”

 

“Sara, I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

 

“Ms Lance, Captain Hunter needs to be monitored-”

 

Sara held up an imperious hand.

 

“Well Rip?” she asked, “What do you say? It should be easy enough.”

 

Rip doesn’t move, glaring at the floor. He hadn’t, as of yet, told anyone what he saw when he looked at them. Only that he was dealing with some unsavoury side-effects that were sure to pass. It appeared that his crew were slightly more perspicuous than anticipated.  Of all the times.

 

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He was Rip Hunter, ex-Time Master. He had faced down worse things than this, risked his life countless times, known more loss than any one being should have to endure. He knew pain. Pain was an old companion, a comfort when the world felt distant.

 

He looked up. And-the room was full of golden light. Particles of time washed over the concerned faces of his crew, concentrated and swirling in unseen eddies. He had truly seen all of them like this. Together, their timelines intertwining and feeding off one another. It was…it was beautiful. Rip stared into the light, swaying forward as he tried to look closer, deeper into their timelines. He had named them legends on that rooftop, what seemed like hundreds of years ago. And legends they were. The changes that they had made, the people they had saved, echoing throughout history.

 

“Captain,” said Gideon, “I am reading dangerously high levels of temporal energy.”

 

“Can we call it Artron energy?” Ray asked, “That just sounds so much cooler.”

 

“Not the time Raymond,” Martin replied, hurrying forward to steady Rip, “But. Yes. It does indeed sound cooler.”

 

“Watch out,” Jax said sharply, “I think he’s gonna-”

 

#

 

Rip woke. He was still in the medbay.

 

“Bollocks,” he muttered.

 

“Good morning Captain Hunter,” said Gideon, “You have been asleep for nine hours. It’s a good job you were already here as I doubt we would have found you otherwise. The Artron energy-“

 

“Please tell me we’re not calling it that.”

 

“-you’re emitting is getting stronger. Professor Stein was able to create a device that suppresses it slightly, but it isn’t a long-term solution.”

 

Rip glanced down at his wrist, where he was indeed sporting a new accessory. A bracelet, in stainless steel or something similar, with a singular blinking light. For some reason it had tiny cogs etched into it.

 

“So long as I wear this, it keeps the symptoms at bay?” he asked, “There’ll be no more passing out?”

 

“Indeed,” Gideon said, her voice chilly, “But the build-up of energy-”

 

Rip ignored her, swinging his legs off the bed. He paused slightly to give his head time to adjust to the sudden movement. Not bad: the pounding was manageable. The real test would come when he faced a crowd of people.

 

“I made a mistake, I admit it. I promise not to do it again. Now, unlock the door.”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t believe you Captain,” Gideon said.

 

“Then you know me too well. However, as your Captain I command you-”

 

“Nice try Rip, but you’re not going anywhere,” Sara said, stepping forward from where she had been lurking in the corner of the room.

 

“Gideon, medical override. Protocol: the Doctor.”

 

“Of course, Ms Lance,” Gideon said, unbearably smug.  

 

“I think you’ll find, Ms Lance,” Rip said, “That we had a deal. You said if I could look you in the eyes, without flinching, you would help me escape. Well this is me,” and he looked up, straight at her. There was a faint patina of gold covering her, but nothing like the unbearable amounts of information he had been seeing for the past few days, “Looking into your eyes.”

 

“I’m a woman of my word,” Sara said. Flatly, she said: “Gideon, open the doors.”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that Ms Lance,” Gideon said, “Once the Doctor protocol is in place, it can only be removed by myself, or a minimum of two crew members.”

 

Sara looked unrepentant. Rip glared at her.

 

“Betrayed by my own crew.”

 

She shrugged. “It’s for your own good. Anyway, you didn’t recruit us because we were heroes.”

 

“No,” Rip replied, “I recruited you because you were legends.”

 

He sighed, and wearily climbed back onto the bed. “What do I have to do to earn my freedom?” he asked.

 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Sara said, “You just have to let us help. That’s all. Give us a month in the temporal zone: Ray and Martin said they’d be able to figure out a more long-term solution. And it’ll give Gideon more time to figure out what’s going on with you. It’d be stupid if the infamous Rip Hunter died because we gave him aspirin.”

 

Rip blinked up at her.

 

“Is that something that’s likely to happen?”

 

Sara shrugged.

 

“Who knows? Ray thinks that it might be an issue. We haven’t tested it yet: we were too busy trying to make sure you didn’t have a stroke.”

 

Rip sighed.

 

“Does anyone else think it’s ridiculous,” he said, “That we’re getting the majority of the information about my new…condition, from a British television series?”

 

“Honestly? After everything we’ve been through? No. There’ve been weirder things.”

 

“I suppose you’re right.”

 

The doors opened with a CLUNK.

 

“Gideon?” Rip asked.

 

And then they came tumbling into the room, bearing blankets and pillows and a ludicrously large amount of popcorn.

 

“You’re up!” Ray said, “Perfect.”

 

He brandished the DVDs in his hand threateningly, “After a spirited debate, we’ve settled on a Doctor!”

 

“Only because none of you philistines have any culture,” Martin muttered from where he was arranging a pillow.

 

“Come on Grey,” Jax said, “Telepathic connection, remember? I know you love it.”

 

Mick just grunted.

 

“I’m only here because haircut promised beer,” he said, settling down on Jax’s painstakingly constructed nest, ignoring the indignant protests.

 

“Sure you are,” Ray said, shoving a bowl of popcorn into Rip’s hands.

 

“Just plain, I’m afraid,” he said, “We didn’t know if you had any weird new allergies.”

 

Rip realised that his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut.

 

“I-” he said when he realised something was expected of him, “Plain is fine?”

 

Mick snorted. “Because you have no taste, English,” he said, “When you’ve been checked over by Gideon, I’ll made you some jalapeno and cheddar popcorn. Then we’ll see how you feel about plain.”

 

Rip felt that he had slid into some weird, alternate, dimension. Sara, who had been grinning at his gobsmacked expression, finally took pity on him: “Shouldn’t we start watching? Gideon doesn’t want him up too late.”

 

“Indeed Ms Lance,” Gideon said, “Captain Hunter should not be up for more than four hours.”

 

“But Aliens of London is a two-parter!” Ray protested.

 

“Then we’d best get started,” Martin said firmly. And stealing the remote from Ray’s hands, he pressed play.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One by one the Legends succumbed to sleep, heads nodding and the sound of snoring permeating the air. Mick lay in the corner of the room, cradling the empty bowl of popcorn to his chest. Jax was slumped over, utterly boneless as only truly young could be. Martin has left an hour ago, citing his need for rest and his back’s poor tolerance for sleeping on the floor. Ray was sprawled against the wall, remote still in hand, emitting a truly monstrous noise: if they had weaponised the sound of his snores, they could have probably blown up the Oculus, no sabotage needed.

One by one the Legends succumbed to sleep, heads nodding and the sound of snoring permeating the air. Mick lay in the corner of the room, cradling the empty bowl of popcorn to his chest. Jax was slumped over, utterly boneless as only truly young could be. Martin has left an hour ago, citing his need for rest and his back’s poor tolerance for sleeping on the floor. Ray was sprawled against the wall, remote still in hand, emitting a truly monstrous noise: if they had weaponised the sound of his snores, they could have probably blown up the Oculus, no sabotage needed.

 

Rip lay on the bed, trapped underneath Sara’s surprisingly heavy head which had, over the course of the last few hours, had dipped lower and lower until it had made its final descent onto his chest.

 

Was it possible that an ex-member of the League of Assassins, someone who could kill each and every person present in the room without a second thought, could look so cute?

 

Rip felt a wetness seep through his clothes and winced. The things he did for his team.

 

“Captain,” said Gideon, voice hushed so as not to wake anyone, “You have been awake for the past eight hours, twice as long as you should have been. You must rest.”

 

“I’ve been trying, Gideon,” Rip replied, his voice little more than a whisper, “But I can’t seem to drop off.”

 

Rip was no stranger to long, restless, nights. He often spent hours researching, under Gideon’s disapproving gaze, staving off tiredness with cup after cup of tea and, when all else failed, a large carafe of coffee. And the occasional stimulant. Once his family had been killed, he had become even worse, delaying going to sleep as long as possible. He could imagine the death of his family well-enough when awake, he didn’t need it in 3D technicolour whenever he fell asleep as well.

 

He knew the battle against sleep intimately, the fight to keep one’s eyes open. To avoid succumbing to the fallacy that one more blink, just one, couldn’t hurt. This. This wasn’t it.

 

He felt wide awake. Better than he had for years, his mind sharp and ready and utterly not prepared to do anything as mundane as sleep.

 

“Perhaps it is something to do with my rather unique new physiology,” Rip said.

 

“Hmm,” Gideon replied, “That is a possibility. Although I haven’t ruled out that this is an elaborate ploy to circumvent the Doctor protocol.”

 

Rip groaned. “I can’t believe that you allowed it to be called that. Or that you went behind my back to create a medical override of all things.”

 

He had meant it as a jest. Part of the endless back and forth that characterised their relationship, often described by Jax as being akin to that of an old married couple. Or something to that effect. He was waiting for Gideon to play along, say something about how she wouldn’t have needed to create the medical override if he didn’t himself into so much trouble, to which he would retort that it was the fault of Jax or Ray of Mick. Gideon would then reply that he had got into plenty of trouble all by himself before he had recruited the Legends, and then sweetly enumerate example after example until he gave in with and laugh and conceded the point.

 

But Gideon didn’t reply. Didn’t sink into the old, familiar, patterns.

 

“Please Captain,” she said, “I was worried about you. We all were. You were ignoring it all. You were trying to pretend that everything was normal.”

 

Rip sighed.

 

“I have to admit it’s a bit of an adjustment. But nothing I can’t handle.”

 

“You handling it ended up with you catatonic on the streets of Missouri,” Gideon said, voice flat and unamused.

 

Rip scowled, jerking forward slightly, only to stop when Sara stirred, before settling back down with a grunt.

 

“It was an oversight. Next time I’ll know better.”

 

“Next time?” Gideon asked, voice rising, “There won’t be a next time if you’re not more careful.”

 

“Gideon-”

 

“No. Captain. You can’t keep doing this. Not to me. Please. You’re all that I have left. I told you, when we were flying into the sun, that I didn’t want to die. You said that you didn’t either, but I’m not sure whether you were telling me the truth.”

 

“Gideon-”

 

“Rip. I don’t want you to die either. Please don’t leave me alone. You’re the only one left.”

 

Rip closed his eyes. It didn’t truly help of course, but it made him feel better. Gave him some measure of control over himself. He hadn’t thought about it, had actively tried not to think about it. The fact that Gideon had lost as much as he when they had destroyed the Vanishing Point, had lost all of her sister and brother-ships.

 

“I promise, Gideon,” Rip said, “That I won’t leave you. Not for as long as I’m alive.” He paused. “And I intend to die of old age. Which I suppose means I’ll have to put up with all your ridiculous poking and prodding.”

 

“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it.”

 

Rip sighed, and lay back, trying to make himself more comfortable.

 

“I still don’t think I can manage to get to sleep.  But perhaps I could lie here with my eyes closed. And if you wouldn’t mind, Gideon. Perhaps you could read to me?”

 

“Gladly. Ahem.”

 

Rip smiled to himself. Gideon didn’t technically have a throat and therefore didn’t have to clear it, but she did enjoy her traditions.

 

“ _It’s hard being left alone.  I wait for Henry, not knowing where he is, wondering if he’s okay. It’s hard to be the one who stays_ -“

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story that Gideon starts reading is, appropriately enough, the Time Traveller's Wife.
> 
> This is the last chapter, but I will (hopefully) be continuing this as a series!

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching Legends of Tomorrow recently, but I have only seen a few episodes so I have no idea if any of my characterisations are correct :) Once I knew about Rip Hunter's character though, I really couldn't resist! Blame the casting directors/costume department/Arthur Darvill I guess??
> 
> The timeline is probably pretty messed up, but I think this takes place between the series 1 finale and the beginning of series 2. I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it.  
> I am on Tumblr as [Nemainofthewater ](https://nemainofthewater.tumblr.com)


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